


Enrichment Time

by BeveStuscemi



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Asphyxiation, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Knifeplay, M/M, Rough Sex, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 10:37:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15749985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeveStuscemi/pseuds/BeveStuscemi
Summary: *A Re-Upload*Even somebody as driven as Wesker grows bored of the same surroundings day in and day out. When Spencer allocates him twenty-four hours of recreational time, Wesker leaves the Arklay Mountains for Raccoon City. Here, he finds an establishment with a reputation for fulfilling the wants and needs of their patrons.Luckily for Wesker, a young man named Chris also shares his interest in "darker" activities.





	Enrichment Time

For all intents and purposes, Spencer Mansion was a castle and like any good king, Spencer had orchestrated the construction to be as impregnable as possible. The mansion was nestled in forest, hiding its location from Raccoon City far below whilst giving Spencer a clear view of the kingdom of which he ruled. The mansion stood proud amidst mountains and they provided enough coverage for the mansion to be engulfed in the shadows that were cast over it. However, what made the mansion so strong, so inconspicuous was the security Spencer had ensured. Spencer ruled over his domain with an iron fist, running various security checks on staff to be certain that no information was leaking to the outside world. All Umbrella employees were ushered into the laboratory beneath the mansion and rarely saw the light of day unless Spencer permitted them to stand on the mansion’s many balconies. Spencer had made it virtually impossible for any Umbrella employee to live a normal life outside his rule and the families and friends of those working for him were simply inconveniences to his greater plan. That being said, Spencer was not an unreasonable man. He had heard the rumours of cabin fever and how the human mind deteriorates without outdoor exposure so he allowed his employees twenty-four hours per month to leave the mansion and explore Raccoon City. As long as they returned to the laboratory by the designated time and no information was exchanged, Spencer could not care less about the activities of which they pursued. The workers leapt at the opportunity. Some split their time into two twelve-hour slots, others spent the full twenty-four in the city and would find a cheap hotel to spend the night before returning the following day. Spencer’s own protégé, Albert Wesker, was no exception.  
To nobody’s surprise, Wesker did not indulge in the offer when Spencer first implemented it. Instead, he would spend the extra day alongside William Birkin, looking over research, results and other information regarding the virus. Naturally, this changed when Birkin saddled himself with a family and when his twenty-four hours were spent with his young daughter. Even to a man as ambitious as Wesker, working alone on a research project was notoriously difficult without Birkin’s input. Within three months Wesker finally decided to utilise his enrichment time in Raccoon City. And today was his allocated twenty-four hours.

Wesker knew where he was going, it was the same place he visited every time he left the laboratory. It was a seedy little place on the outskirts of the city, situated on a road where the main highway mingled with the smaller roads leading into Raccoon City. The road was seldom lit, making it the perfect location for men to leave and enter the building without being seen and even the police department ignored the road completely, perhaps on Umbrella’s orders. Regardless, Wesker had parked the car a few blocks down and walked up the narrow street to avoid attention. Even the lights of a passing car could draw the attention of the establishment he wished to visit. Every city in America had its own version of a brothel and Raccoon City was fortunate enough to have two. While other Umbrella employees knew only of the building outside the business district, Wesker needed somewhere less known, somewhere that was able to satisfy him completely. Other men were content with the basic services rendered to them in the other brothel but Wesker needed a more sordid establishment since his interests ran a little darker than most. He needed a place to fulfil his every desire.  
The brothel masqueraded as a run-down bar, a cover-up just convincing enough to deflect the attention of the authorities. The madame in charge had even gone to the liberty of purchasing posters and neon lighting to make the charade appear all the more convincing. The faded neon flickered in the empty street and Wesker smiled as though he was coming home. Pushing open the wooden door, Wesker was greeted by the familiar smell of burning incense. Opposite the door was an old desk with an equally tired woman sitting behind it. Her hair was tied up into a bun but her face was plain and without makeup, a clear indicator to any man that she was not available. She gave a smile when she saw Wesker, revealing her yellow teeth.  
 “You’re early today. Usual, I presume?”  
Wesker gave a stoic nod and the woman gave a chuckle.  
“Well, give ‘em five more minutes to get ready and you’ll hear the bell when they’re done.” She pointed to the wall of bells behind her. Each bell gave a name of the prostitute and their room number. Wesker didn’t have to look, he knew exactly which room to enter. 

Wesker took a seat on the pleather sofa in the corner of the room and avoided contact with the ash that had settled in the cushions. The place wasn’t the classiest but Wesker preferred it that way. Richer prostitutes had the ability to deny his requests while poorer ones would do anything for his money. Unfortunately, poorer prostitutes were also undesirable and many of them were older, far past their prime and only useable if Wesker closed his eyes. It did not help that their patrons were also people of the same calibre, so the they all fought for Wesker’s attention when he made his debut at their workplace. The mood changed after he concluded his first visit and his notoriety within the establishment only grew from there. Rumours about him spread like wildfire and they soon transformed into exaggerated stories which Wesker found himself eager to turn into a reality. The soft chime of a bell behind the woman caught both their attention and Wesker stood up from the sofa.  
“First room on the right,” The woman said. “Any damage done we’ll charge you for.”  
“I know.” He couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t make a mess but he wouldn’t pay regardless. Low class whores only got so much of his time and money.  
Up the flight of stairs leading to the second floor Wesker was confronted by one of the prostitutes. Dressed in tattered red lace and presented as an aged flamenco dancer, the colour ran from her face as she saw Wesker. Even behind a pair of sunglasses, his cold stare bore into her.  
“I’m not here for you.” He said plainly and she stumbled into her room and shut the door behind her. No, the person Wesker wanted was in the room opposite. The person in question was a young, athletic man with muscled legs and an eagerness to please. The man was the prized jewel in the plastic crown of the establishment and was worth every penny he charged. The man’s youthfulness had bordered into arrogance upon their first meet and Wesker had taken much pleasure into destroying it as the night continued. Wesker gave another smile and rapped on the door. 

Within seconds the door opened and revealed the man inside. He leaned against the wooden panelling of the door with a blue dressing gown tastefully covering him. True to Wesker’s memory the man still had toned, sculpted legs but his eyes were smaller than what Wesker remembered. The eyes were wide blown in pleasure the last time Wesker had visited and he felt a sudden need to return them to that state.  
“Good evening, Chris.”  
“Back so soon? I almost feel bad for you.” Chris gave a playful smile and the thin robe exposed more of his tanned thigh.  
Wesker frowned. The cocky attitude had returned and just like a disobedient dog, Chris had to be retrained. It wasn’t a total loss, within ten minutes Chris would be reminded just who he was dealing with.  
“What did I tell you about arrogance?” Wesker grabbed Chris by the collar of his gown and drew him close to his face. There was a strong scent of shaving cream and cheap woodland cologne which hit Wesker like an aphrodisiac. He took a step forward and pushed Chris onto the bed. The springs creaked as Chris landed and Wesker unbuttoned his jacket before throwing it onto the chair Chris kept in front of his mirror.  
“Now,” Wesker began with a voice dark and luxurious. “What should I do with you?”  
Chris’s chest heaved beneath his gown and he bit his lip anxiously, waiting for the next move. Wesker felt himself harden at the sight of submission in front of him. With a sudden movement, he grabbed Chris’s legs and pulled him to the bottom of the bed where he towered over him like a titan.  
“I considered being gentle with you tonight,” Wesker said sweetly through gritted teeth. “But after that greeting I feel like retraining is in order.”  
With a gloved hand Wesker dug his fingers into Chris’s jaw.  
“What’s my name?” He whispered as Chris’s breath hitched.  
“Albert.” Even with the man leering over him, Chris was still lacked discipline. Wesker struck him across the face.  
“Wrong. What is my name?” The tone was more dangerous and Chris’s eyes shined with fear and arousal.  
“Master.”  
Wesker patted the reddening skin on Chris’s face. “Much better.” 

The erection was too obvious to ignore now and Wesker could feel it straining in the tight black trousers he wore. Chris reached for his zipper but was swatted away.  
“You’re not gonna let me touch you?”  
“Bad dogs don’t get treats,” Wesker slowly pulled down his zipper and regarded the man. “Get on your knees.”  
Chris obliged and kneeled on the edge of the bed. Wesker unbuttoned his briefs and let the air hit his exposed flesh. He had little time to dwell on this and instead shoved his cock into Chris’s willing mouth.  
Wesker gave a sudden intake of breath and his hand curled into Chris’s brown hair.  
“You’re so much more tolerable with my cock in your mouth.” Chris rolled his eyes and Wesker frowned. He tugged harder at his hair and pushed him to the base of his cock so Chris’s nose was buried in blonde pubic hair.  
“Don’t fucking roll your eyes at me. Do you know how many people would die to suck the cock of a God?”  
Chris sucked harder and Wesker gave a low groan. At the angle he was positioned he could feel the back of Chris’s throat. As much as Wesker wanted to empty himself in his mouth, Chris didn’t deserve it. A blowjob was far too tame for what Wesker wanted. When he felt a tongue stroke the underside of his cock he knew he wouldn’t last long like this. He pulled Chris off him and pushed him back onto the bed. Wesker’s eyes darted straight to the drawer beside the bed.  
“Get the rope.” 

Within minutes Wesker had gained control of the rope and had secured it around Chris’s wrists and tied it to the metal bedframe behind him.  
“What are you going to do to me, Master?” Chris’s voice was low and strained and his own dick was semi-hard from the rough treatment.  
A hand squeezed around the man’s throat and his eyes widened in shock. Wesker’s mouth was barely inches away from his ear and Chris could sense the predatory smile as Wesker’s smooth face rubbed against his stubble.  
“Everything, scum.”  
The hand squeezed tighter around Chris’s throat and his heart began to beat faster as Wesker grinned down at him. With his free hand Wesker began to slowly jerk himself off to maintain size for what was to come.  
“You want me to stop?” There was a biting, sarcastic tone to Wesker’s voice and he continued his manic grin. Chris shook his head.  
“No? No what?” Again, the grip tightened and Chris’s heart rate quickened.  
“No…Master…” He choked out.  
“Good.” The grip relented slightly and Chris drew in a quick breath as his master observed him.  
“You sound so desperate when you can’t breathe,” The jerking motion hastened and Wesker was fully erect again and so was Chris. “Filthy little wretch. Does asphyxiation get you off?” Wesker spat.  
“Yes, Master.” Chris said earnestly. The humiliation sent another bolt of arousal to Wesker’s cock.  
“I can’t have that. I’m here to discipline you, not pleasure you.” 

Wesker stood up and pulled down his trousers, letting them gather at his black boots. He reached for a small box on the bedside table and pulled out a condom and bottle of lubricant. He ripped open the condom and rolled it onto his stiff cock before pouring some of the gel onto his fingers.  
“Spread your legs, scum.”  
Chris obeyed eagerly and lifted himself into the air. With the lubricant dripping between Wesker’s gloved fingers, Chris offered himself to his master. Wesker’s index finger entered first and was swiftly followed by the middle one. The two fingers probed at Chris’s canal and Chris gyrated in the motion of Wesker’s fingers. The fingers suddenly shot deeper inside him and Wesker’s free hand connected with his face again.  
“Don’t fucking move. Lie there and take it like the whore you are.”  
Chris made a grunting noise in response.  
Wesker continued to finger fuck Chris’s asshole until he found the soft tissue at the base. With a sick grin, Wesker massaged the spot and Chris’s gave a gasp. Beads of sweat dotted Chris’s forehead as he tried his best to stay perfectly still for Wesker. His legs ached and his cock throbbed but Wesker remained relentless.  
“You don’t cum until I do.”  
“Yes, Master…” Chris’s voice was little more than a whisper now and was punctuated with groans of pleasure.  
As the precum pooled on Chris’s abdomen, Wesker removed his fingers and Chris gasped in relief and disappointment.  
“Upset?” Wesker asked sweetly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got something bigger for you.”  
Wesker tugged at himself until he was fully hard and lined his cock up with Chris’s asshole. With a short, abrupt push he entered Chris and both parties groaned. Chris lifted his head to watch himself get fucked but Wesker pushed his head firmly into the pillows.  
"This is for my eyes only.”  
“Oh, come on!” Chris begged as his hands wrapped around the rope.  
“No! And just to be sure,” Wesker grabbed something within his leather boots and retrieved it. In his hands was a hunting knife with a dark brown handle and silver engravings. The steel of the knife shone in the dim light of the room and was warm against Chris’s neck. “If you try to get up once more, I’ll slit your throat and fuck the hole instead.”  
Chris’s dick rose at the threat and he nodded. Wesker pressed the knife harder into his neck.  
“Good. See how much easier it is when you comply?” 

Without warning, Wesker pulled out from Chris and slammed back in. His balls hit the bottom of Chris’s ass and Wesker gave a small hiss of pain. It sent a bolt of adrenaline into his body and gave him more energy to fuck Chris into the bedsheets again. With his free hand on Chris’s hip with viper-like grip, Wesker began to fuck Chris with unwavering intensity. Blood pumped in Wesker’s body and his face was almost as flushed as the man pushed into the pillowcases.  
“Fuck it.” Wesker discarded the black turtleneck he wore and it lay crumpled next to his trench-coat. As he pulled in and out of Chris’s asshole sweat began to form on his bare chest and his usual slicked hair succumbed to the humidity with strands sticking the sweat of his brow. The humidity had got to Chris too and his silk robe had finally unravelled and gave Wesker a clear view of his body. The tightness of Chris’s ass coupled with the debauched face and tensed muscles only fuelled Wesker’s erection and he hit into Chris’s G-spot harder and harder. Chris’s own cock was in desperate need of release. Every time Wesker hit the base of Chris’s ass, his dick would rise in its own pool of precum. This, alongside Chris’s frenzied panting was indication that he was close.  
“Fuck!” Chris cried, throat taut against the blade. “Master, please I’m so close…”  
“Are you going to finish, scum?” Another hard slam. “Do you like your God’s cock that much?”  
“Yes!”  
“YES WHAT?” The knife was pressed harder and beads of blood began to appear.  
“Yes, Wesker!” The sound of his own name forced Wesker to move faster and he threw the knife to the side and moved his thumb over the blood that had formed. In a mindless, crazed haze he sucked the blood off his thumb and grabbed at Chris’s waist again.  
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum…” Chris’s head sank into the pillow behind him. Wesker grasped his face and Chris stared into the dark lens of his glasses.  
“Scream my name. Tell me you fucking love me.”  
“Oh fuck, Albert,” Chris’s voice was thick in lust and his words a barrage of adoration. “I love you. I love how you fuck me, oh Jesus—" The new sense of pain shot through Chris’s body and his body became stiff with satisfaction. With no warning, Chris reached his climax and hot pumps of cum erupted from his neglected dick and settled on his abdomen. He rode out his orgasm as Wesker continued his assault.  
“There’s no Jesus here. I’m your fucking God, you worship me.” Ego sufficiently stroked, Wesker gripped harder at Chris’s abdomen and felt his nails penetrate the skin through the leather of his gloves. He was panting now and the new tightness of Chris’s ass pushed him to the edge. “Fuck…!”  
Wesker reached his own climax with eyes screwed shut and he emptied himself into the depths of Chris’s ass. A feeling of immense relief washed over him as the dopamine in his brain exploded. Chest rising and falling, Wesker opened his eyes stared into the faded wallpaper of the room and felt himself grow tired. He pulled out and collapsed onto the sheets and lay there for a moment, feeling utterly spent. Beside him, Chris’s breathing had slowed and fallen into a calming manta. Wesker considered falling asleep there and then but he’d run the risk of oversleeping and Chris likely had other guests after him. He laughed inwardly. Whoever was coming to fuck Chris next would not do half as good a job as Wesker could. There was a sense of ownership in that. Within four months, Wesker had left a mark on the young man and no other patron would be able to claim him for themselves. Chris belonged to him. 

Wesker pulled the condom off and placed it into Chris’s trashcan at the foot of his bed. Weeks of research and little stimuli had taken a toll on him and he regretted not taking the condom off and finishing inside Chris. It would have been the final nail in the coffin to mark him with his cum.  
“You gonna untie me?” Chris’s voice cut into Wesker’s train of thought and he slowly turned to face him.  
“Yes. Let me sort myself out.” Wesker pulled up his trousers and went to collect his sweater and knife from the floor. When the sweater was on and the knife back in its sheath, Wesker untied the rope and Chris rubbed at his sore wrists. Red marks had started to form around his wrists and the dried blood had smeared down his neck. If Wesker considered himself an artist, this was his masterpiece.  
“How much?” Wesker asked as he retrieved his coat.  
“Three hundred.”  
Wesker put his coat on and fished out his wallet. He pulled out three hundred-dollar bills and placed them on Chris’s nightstand where the man watched him. Chris’s company did not come cheap but the satisfaction he gave Wesker was priceless.  
“This concludes our meeting for the night. Your master will see you next month,” Wesker buttoned his jacket and walked towards the door. Behind him he heard Chris chuckle. “What?”  
“You’re not my master, Albert. What I say in sex don’t mean shit outside it.”  
“We’ll see about that, scum.” Wesker gave a final smirk as he left the bedroom.


End file.
